My Silent Partner is a Lesbian
by cptraydorsgf
Summary: or, In Which Brenda and Sharon Reunite. This is the seventh installment of this story and this part follows the events of the winter finale "Silent Partner."


**A/N: The absurd angst comes to a close (for now) in this installment, which brings Brenda and Sharon back together. It picks up right where the last chapter left off:**

_** "So that's it, then?" Brenda challenges quietly. "I still want you and you still want me and you know all you would have to do is tell me to come over." Her last statement is almost accusatory, as if the only thing keeping them from surrendering to bliss in each other's arms is Sharon's reticence to invite her over. "Tell me to come over, Sharon." Brenda entreats, but Sharon is silent. "So what, then? We just live with this? Go on and do our jobs and stay professionally distant every damn day and pretend we don't want to fuck each other?"**_

_** "I think that's the only thing left to do, Chief." The words burn like bile in Sharon's throat, even if they are the ones she should be saying. **_

_** Brenda's breath is heavy in her chest. Sharon is right, she knows Sharon is right, but every cell in her body is telling her walking away from the woman is wrong. Sharon cares about her and she cares about Sharon and Brenda knows, just knows, that if she didn't have that ring on her finger, she would already be halfway to Sharon's house. She twirls the band. As if Sharon can see her, or knows what she's thinking, her voice comes softly through the phone. "You can't throw away a seven year relationship and your marriage for good sex with a female co-worker. You're smarter than that, Chief." And Sharon doesn't say it, but she is smart enough not to let Brenda do it, thinking the woman wouldn't resent her for the rest of their lives. **_

_** "I know." Brenda admits. She wants to tell Sharon how overpowering her desire is, how desperate her longing and how much it scares her, but it doesn't matter. **_

_** "You should go back to bed, Chief." Sharon needs to end this phone call; she can't handle much more of this. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."**_

_** "Alright." When Brenda speaks, her voice sounds so small and Sharon's arms ache to wrap around her slender frame. "Take care, Sharon." Brenda is overcome by the feeling that she will never see the woman again, even though they'll be working together in less than six hours.**_

_** "You as well, Chief. I…" Sharon wants to say something, to mark this end, but is suddenly at a loss for words.**_

_** "You gave me somethin' wonderful." Brenda says suddenly, quietly. "And I may have to pretend I don't want it anymore, but I won't ever forget it. Sharon…" She savors the feel of the woman's name in her mouth, the syllables resting on her tongue. **_

_** There is a hole in her throat and Sharon can barely get her next words out. "Good bye, Chief." She hangs up her phone and drops her head into her hands, shuddering wracking her entire frame. Dizzily, she wonders when this spiraled so out of control. **_

_** Sharon stands on shaky legs and makes her way back to her empty bedroom. She knows she did the right thing, refusing to give in to her desire for Brenda, but she can't help but think that the woman would really have left her husband's bed to come to Sharon's. And Sharon is briefly seized with fear at the thought that with that kind of desire still hot between them, this is far from being over. She resisted tonight, but she isn't foolish enough to think she won't still want Brenda tomorrow. **_

Brenda takes a deep, shuddering breath, letting her head fall into her hands, phone dangling limply between her fingers. Well, then. The case of her and Sharon is certainly closed now. She got the good bye she evidently wanted. Brenda shakes herself, clutching her phone and pads back into her bedroom where Fritz lays blissfully asleep. She crawls back into bed next to him, studying his relaxed face and feels a chill tickle her back. She would have left this wonderful man here, to go over to Sharon's tonight. If the woman hadn't been stronger than Brenda, if she had broken and told her to come over, Brenda would have been out the door before she could even put her shoes on. She takes another deep breath, feeling it fill her lungs. God she's glad, so glad Sharon didn't let her be as foolish as she wanted to be. That woman was right; good sex was no reason to end a marriage. She can give it up, she can train her body not to want Sharon's touches anymore. She slides tentatively closer to Fritz, tucking her hands under her chin and counting the little lines on his face. She will resist temptation because some things are more important than the cravings of her body. She shuffles closer still, until she can feel his breath on her face. And while she's at it, she might just try giving up sugar again. Or, at least cutting down. She isn't getting any younger and one of these days, all those calories are going to catch up with her, despite her good genes on her Mama's side. Fritz evidently feels her presence even in sleep because he unconsciously reaches an arm out to wrap around her waist. He tugs her closer, still snoring, and Brenda winces as her skin prickles. She's glad she's still here, glad she wasn't stupid enough to get in her car and drive to Sharon's despite what the Captain said. She knows she made the right choice not to grab Sharon and shake her until she admitted she still wanted Brenda, then kiss her until neither one of them could breathe. But her body still rebels, her foolish, selfish, traitorous body still demands Sharon's soothing touch, her soft kiss. Brenda burrows further into Fritz's embrace. Briefly, she wonders if she would feel better if she told him what she had done, if they could move forward working on this together. She takes in the relaxed expression on his face and instantly knows she won't. She won't ever tell him anything.

Brenda stands in line at the coffee house, tapping her foot and staring vacantly into space. She was good this morning, committed to her new resolve to cut down on the sugar. She got a blueberry muffin instead of the chocolate one she really wanted and a latte instead of a mocha with whipped cream. Well, a vanilla latte. But, baby steps. And she has decided to delete that stupid chat account she created as well. She is going to make better decisions, in general. She feels a sense of calm settling over her and Brenda imagines this is acceptance. She did something horribly, terrible wrong by cheating on her husband with a subordinate officer. She still desires the woman and maybe that makes her bisexual or a little bit queer. A part of her wants Sharon still, despite the time that has passed and despite knowing better. Maybe she's a little sad that she won't get to know that part of herself. But Sharon was right on the phone last night. Sometimes you don't get what you want and the sooner Brenda starts-oomph.

Brenda grabs at the counter as she is thrown suddenly off balance. Strong hands grab her hips and steady her.

"Oh my God!" A harried, female voice meets her ears. "I am so sorry, are you alright?" When Brenda has settled herself firmly back on her feet, the hands fall from her hips. She blinks and looks at the woman who nearly ran her over. Her face is a mask of concern and she is biting her lip. "I'm so sorry." She repeats. Brenda watches her mouth when she speaks; her lips are full and pouty like Sharon's, except painted pink.

"I'm fine." Brenda hears herself responding mindlessly. "Thank you." The woman's face breaks into a relieved smile and Brenda feels her own imitating it. She brushes back a lock of blonde hair, dirtier blonde than Brenda's own, shorter, and cut in choppy, blunt layers. Her eyes are brilliant, oceanic blue and her tan skin is dotted with little freckles across her nose. The chiseled bones of her face, the curves of her cheek and jaw remind Brenda of her time in Eastern Europe, all angular definition. She's taller than Brenda and dressed way more casually in a fitted black tank top and jeans slung low enough on her hips to reveal the very tip of a black tattoo on her pelvis. Silver bracelets jangle on her wrist and a silver necklace dips down into the neck of her shirt. Her feet are clad in leather boots and Brenda wonders if she rides a motorcycle. Instantly, she is aware that she is staring, ogling this stranger, and snaps her eyes back up to the woman's face. "That's quite alright." She says again, trying not to sound as flustered as she feels. "No problem at all, no harm done." She quickly averts her eyes. The woman's hand brushes her hip.

"You're sure you're alright?" Brenda's stomach clenches. This is ridiculous, she's being ridiculous. But that doesn't stop her from flushing in awareness as she feels the woman's eyes trail over her form, clad in a form fitting suit jacket and skirt. The gaze is appreciative, Brenda can feel the way it lingers on her muscled calves.

"Fine." She repeats.

"Let me at least buy your coffee, to make it up to you." Her voice is softer, and the very tips of her fingers brushing Brenda's hip where they haven't strayed too far from her body.

"Oh, I've already ordered, I'm just waitin'." Brenda is infinitely glad she can say this honestly, but still smiles at this stranger. "But thank you for offerin'." This woman smiles back, displaying her dimples.

"Another time, then?" Her voice is soft, low. She's younger than Brenda; her skin would glide along Brenda's suddenly hot flesh like fine Indian silk. Full ripe breasts, soft belly. Flashes of pale inner thigh burn into Brenda's corneas. An arching spine and bared throat, keening noises of pleasure, tender hands in her hair.

"I'm married." Brenda chokes out. "To a man." She clears her throat, attempting to swallow down the erotic slideshow her mind conjured. The woman just smirks a little, eyes dancing with a secret knowledge she thinks she has.

"Hmmm." It's so similar to the humming sound Sharon makes. "Well, if you ever need…something…different." The woman leans in as if to kiss her cheek, hand brushing brazenly over Brenda's stomach, curving around her hip in a motion that must look to the rest of the world like a half hug. Pressure against her side lets her know the woman has slipped something into her pocket. The woman's scent assails her; it is spring rainwater and passion fruit. A button nose nudges her curls and warm breath bathes her earlobe. "You're gorgeous. And I hope you'll pardon my forwardness. Women in business suits just make me…mmm." She makes a sound like a decadent moan right in Brenda's ear. Then she is gone, leaving Brenda paralyzed and staring wide eyed in front of herself, clenching her thighs against the pounding between her legs. She blinks several times, feels a bead of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" She mutters to herself and gets back in line to order that chocolate muffin.

Brenda glares angrily at the monitor in electronics. It had to be today. It had to be today of all damn days that a 110 Crip was found dead with Peter Goldman's business card on his person. J Rock, what a stupid name. She squints against the glare on the computer screen. Oooh that man! That terrible, horrible man! She is aware of just the slightest gnawing in her gut, the beginning pinpricks of stomach pain. He was up at San Quentin, talking to Reggie Moses. Talking about names of murdering gangbangers who would shoot one of their own in the back. She highly doubts they'll feel any type of warm and fuzzy affection for a lady cop who helped, allegedly. Allegedly helped them commit murder. Her mind's eye conjures up the image of the young man on that infernal gold bicycle. Was he there, she wonders. Was he there when J Rock was shot in the back? Did he pull the trigger? This is going to be bad for her, she can feel the noose tightening around her neck, the rope fibers scratching at her skin. Goldman has those names, she's sure of it. J Rock wouldn't be dead if Goldman didn't have the names of Tyrell's murderers. Which means one of them will roll over. One of them always does. And Brenda will be the one to get that confession. She watches Goldman pace the length of her interview room. She'll do her job and take the confession that will destroy her career. The irony. The irony almost makes her want to laugh. Or cry.

"Helloooo, Peter." Sharon's husky voice comes through the mic and Brenda's throat tightens. Just last night on the phone this woman was telling her she still wanted her. Before she can stop herself, Brenda is letting her eyes trail down the bare legs revealed by her skirt. The soft skin, strong thighs. Brenda's hips tingle as they recall the feel of those legs wrapped around her waist. No. She shakes herself. No, she has to focus on this case now. This case. Dead gangbangers and Peter Goldman. Not Sharon's long legs.

Sharon smiles at that god awful man, standing rumpled and flustered in front of her. Viciously, she is glad Gavin called her. She was so hoping she would be the one to break this man, to make him whimper in surrender. Distantly, she wonders if she has ever hated another human being the way she hates this so called lawyer. "I have been thinking about you so much," Sharon goes on. "It's almost a relief to be able to sit down and talk to you for a moment." She forces her face to remain open and warm. Relief isn't quite the word she would use to describe her poisonous feelings of rage towards Peter Goldman, but she has indeed been thinking about him. She's spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning, thinking about this lawsuit and Brenda and worrying about what would happen to the Chief in federal court. She had almost asked Brooke to look at the file, almost.

Brenda bites her lip to stop a vindictive smile from curving on her mouth when Sharon puts the picture of J Rock in front of Goldman. He's terrified; she can see it and practically smell it. Brenda drags her attention back to the interview.

"Might you have been in San Quentin prison visiting Reggie Moses on death row?" Sharon asks in that even, dulcet tone. Despite the seriousness of this, of all that is at stake and despite their conversation the previous night, Brenda finds herself appreciating the magnificent woman who sits so poised in that room. She looks beautiful today, Brenda acknowledges. The suit is one she has never seen before, a light blend, something so stylish Brenda isn't even sure what the fabric is. The black and tan color really goes well with the auburn of Sharon's hair, which she has trimmed recently, Brenda notices. It frames her face, and those black glasses. The jacket fits her perfectly, like it was made for her form, which is how Brenda knows it is expensive. The halves are buttoned together to cup and cradle the swells of her breasts, the mounds full and tantalizing underneath the layers. The red of the shirt underneath matches the red of her lips. Brenda's nimble fingers twitch.

Sharon is speaking again. "Whoa, whoa, before you start huffing and puffing and trying to blow my house down, you signed in to San Quentin prison, Peter. It's a matter of public record. Now, you spoke with Reggie Moses, a 110 Crip, afterwards he made a phone call. And then another 110 Crip, J Rock, ended up dead." Sharon hopes he sees where she is going with this. She hopes he sees the lines she is drawing, between his actions and Brenda's. She hopes he knows that she knows what he has done. She hopes he knows she is not fooled. She hopes he knows what he is in for by attacking the LAPD. Brenda can't help but be impressed. Sharon's style is different than hers, more subtle, but she is good. But damn, that woman is so good. Goldman walked right into the trap she is setting without even seeing it.

The smirk is gone from Sharon's face now, her back ramrod straight.

"J Rock was a witness to Tyrell Baylor's death?" Goldman nods. "And he gave you the names of Tyrell's murderers?" He blinks, falters. Just for a moment, but both Brenda and Sharon see it.

"No." He replies slowly. "No." He shakes his head. "Just that they were all 110 Crips."

He's lying, obviously, and Sharon seizes on it, pushing him harder and harder until he is on his feet and screaming at her. Brenda tenses, her whole body seized up and ready to pounce. He's angry and the way he is looking at Sharon…Brenda rubs the back of her neck to stop herself from clenching her hands into fists. Sharon can handle it, she knows, but she wants to go in there and force him back into his chair.

Sharon clicks into the room with her heels, studiously ignoring Brenda, refusing to look her way. She nods curtly to Gavin and Pope. She needs to remain focused on this case, on that purple tie wearing moron in that interview room. She cannot afford to get distracted right now. She needs to think about those names, getting those names. Her stomach twists. If they get those names, maybe one of them will testify against Brenda, say they saw her drive off. No. She mentally shakes off the thought. That isn't her problem, it isn't her job. She can't think about that. This isn't even her case, she's just here to help in whatever way she's told and get the hell back down to IA where things make sense.

"Mr. Goldman!" Brenda's Southern drawl comes through the microphone and Sharon's eyes snap to the computer screen. She stifles a smile; not even Pope had noticed her slinking out the back door of the electronics room. She doesn't even realize she is leaning towards the screen, squinting with the effort of focusing so hard on the picture of the woman. She really is incredible, Sharon thinks mindlessly. So beautiful, so proud, so strong. That long, flowing hair that is so soft tumbling through her fingers. She even dressed nicely today. Sharon has to admit, as atrocious as all the floral prints and flower petals are, Brenda's wardrobe really does have its moments. This little taupe ensemble is something she has never worn but the color is perfect. It warms her peach skin and the tapered jacket accentuates her curves. The curves Sharon has explored with her hands, with her mouth. The curves she could have traced all night last night if she wasn't so damn principled. Suddenly, she isn't sure if she's the most responsible woman she knows or a complete idiot.

Brenda is assuring Goldman that she wants to find J Rock's murderers, that she wants to close this case and Sharon feels something oddly like pride well up in her chest. She knows it's the truth. Whatever else she may be, Brenda Leigh Johnson is nothing if not dedicated and devoted to her job.

"If you know who these people are, you better tell me." Brenda's rage is barely controlled. Sharon doubts anyone else noticed the minute trembling in her voice, but she did. "Before they do to you what they did to J Rock." It isn't a threat, but it's close and Sharon leans in. Careful, Brenda, she thinks.

"I'm not afraid." Goldman asserts. Brenda's cold eyes don't flinch from his.

"Yes, you are." A shiver lances down Sharon's spine.

"Well," Gavin's voice comes from beside her and she startles at recalling her friend is in the room with her. "If Goldman does know those names-"

"He does." Sharon insists. She knows it, she can feel it with every fiber of her being. Brenda clearly thinks so, too.

"And we can prove it, I think I can force him to settle." Sharon blinks. Settle? The word jars her. Why does Gavin look so self satisfied?

"Chief Johnson won't settle, Gavin." She hears the warning in her own voice. "She wants to be cleared in court." Which is no less than what she deserves. And no less than Gavin's job.

"Ah." He raises his eyebrows. "Well, good to know." Sharon's eyes widen in disbelief. She knows that dismissive tone of his voice and shakes her head. This is not going to be good, she can feel it. She'll just have to remind him where his obligations lie, the job he was hired to do, the best interests of his client. Brenda will never settle, no matter what's at stake. She knows her Chief, and she knows Brenda will go down fighting. She will lose everything she has before settling, saying she failed professionally. Sharon knows this because it's what she herself would do. She looks incredulously at Buzz, who is just staring at her like she has grown a second head. She just fixes him with her most intimidating stare and stalks out of the electronics room, to an audible sigh of relief.

Brenda is staring absently at her kitchen cabinet, eyes scanning the wood, contemplating the matching dishes within. Everything they have that matches is something Fritz picked out. She has thought of everything in concocting this plan, she knows she has, but it doesn't stop the sick feeling from settling in the pit of her stomach. If she makes it out of this with her job, nonetheless alive, it will be a damn miracle. Fritz's keys jangling onto the counter snap Brenda out of her reverie. He approaches her, but stops short of reaching out to take her in his arms. His hands twitch to touch, Brenda sees, but he doesn't. The realization makes her incredibly sad. This is what she has done to her wonderful husband, what she has done to her rock solid marriage, all over a few nights with a woman who has probably forgot about her by now. Her whole body seizes at the thought, rebels. Surely Sharon hasn't forgotten about them, surely she hasn't moved on so quickly. She has to stop herself from shaking her head vehemently in objection to the thought. She heard the want, the craving in Sharon's voice that night they spoke on the phone. Sharon isn't over them, either. Brenda just knows this. Fritz's voice jars her back to the present.

"Let me ask you something." Brenda's stomach drops. He knows, she thinks absurdly. He finally figured it out. "Are you sure you know what you're doing here? I think this case could present a conflict of interest for you." Brenda is so filled with relief she feels weightless and she sighs, letting the tension drain from her body.

"It's a conflict of interest for everybody but me." Brenda averts her eyes from his open, caring face. "Besides, I've come up with a plan I think covers everything."

"It's not suicide, is it?" Fritz deadpans.

"Oh ha ha."

"No, because arresting the guys who killed Tyrell Baylor could end up costing you big time."

"Well, which you would rather I give up?" Brenda fires back, tears choking her voice. "Everything I have or everything I am?" Suddenly Sharon's face floats in front of her misty eyes and she forcibly blinks it back. No, this has nothing to do with that woman.

"What's behind door number three? Anything?"

Fritz pulls Brenda into his arms them and Brenda automatically embraces him. She relaxes against his chest, feels his familiar warmth and strength.

"Daddy's sick." She says. "I'm all packed up for my trip to Atlanta. If I lose my job over this, so be it. I'll keep busy." The words are like shards of glass in her throat, horrid and bitter and untrue. She catches Fritz's eyes for a second before looking away. Clearly he doesn't believe her any more than she believes herself.

The fog in her head clears as she brings them back to the case and she seizes on the name Fritz gives her. Marvin Evans. He bought the convenience store, paid for Charlie Niles' funeral, grew up in 110 Crip territory. Brenda feels the familiar stirring in her chest that lets her know she's on to something.

"Sounds like a shot-caller to me." Fritz agrees.

"Look," Brenda grabs Fritz's hands and looks in square in the eye. "Thank you. Thank you. Honestly, if it weren't for you, I don't think I'd have a single soul on Earth I could trust right now, I really don't." Fritz rubs his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

"I'm glad I've finally become the kind of person other people can count on." Brenda squeezes his hands. Her wonderful, loving husband. Her heart aches. Evidently she still isn't the kind of person other people can count on.

Brenda smoothes imaginary wrinkles out of her skirt as she stares at the door to Sharon's office. She doesn't want to go in there; she really doesn't, but besides for Fritz there is no one else she can trust to help her. She knocks softly and hears Sharon's husky voice beckon her to enter. She squares her shoulders and pushes through the door. There is a moment, before Sharon can make her expression appropriately blank, when her surprise is written all over her features.

"Deputy Chief Johnson." She greets formally, eyes studying Brenda from behind her black frames.

"Good morning, Captain." Brenda shuts the door behind her. "Is now a bad time?" Sharon closes the file she was reading and tugs her glasses off her face. It's on the tip of Sharon's tongue to ask if it's a bad time for what, exactly, but she just shakes her head.

"Not at all, Chief. What can I do for you?" She gestures to her chairs, urging Brenda to sit down. The Chief does, crossing her long legs and Sharon appreciates the view of the soft skin for the quickest of moments before dragging her eyes back to Brenda's face. The woman is biting her lip and staring just beyond Sharon's head. Sharon feels a twinge of sadness. Brenda is so shut down, so closed off and it's startling when Sharon remembers how open she was with her not too long ago. She has had this woman in her bed, in her body, she has kissed and licked every inch of the Deputy Chief, made her laugh with teasing touches to her ticklish belly.

"Well, Captain, I was hopin' you might be willin' to do me a favor." Briefly it occurs to Brenda that she probably doesn't have the right to ask Sharon for anything, but the woman is sliding her glasses back on to her face.

"Of course, Chief. What do you need?" She is all business but Brenda still feels her body react. She knows what she needs from Sharon, her skin tingles with the tease of it and she bites her lip.

Quickly, she outlines everything Fritz told her about Marvin Evans and why she needs to question him. Sharon studies Evans' file, nodding occasionally, shrewd eyes studying Brenda.

"Wait, wait." She puts a hand up, stopping Brenda in the middle of her explanation about the things she hopes the FBI hears on their surveillance tapes of Evans' apartment. Brenda clamps her mouth shut. "So you want to question Evans, I understand that, Chief. You need to talk to him about his interest in his old neighborhood and give the FBI ample time to bug his condo." Her inquisitive eyes flash. "But you understand that the second you bring him in here the leak is going to inform Goldman and if Marvin Evans really is your guy, then Goldman will have a target on his back. You need to get him some protection, Chief." Brenda almost smiles at the righteously indignant tone of the Captain's voice. Even scum-sucking scourge of the Earth deserve protection, according to Captain Raydor, and Brenda is a little impressed by the woman's principle.

"I know that, Captain. I know." Brenda insists in that sugar sweet tone that makes Sharon raise her eyebrows.

"Okay." She says hesitantly. "Well then what do you need from me?"

"Well, I can't very well order protection for Goldman right before talkin' to the man he needs protection from. It would look like I was settin' him up." Sharon winces. That is, indeed, exactly what it would look like. She feels the beginnings of a headache pulse behind her eyes.

"I agree." The Deputy Chief just looks at her, smiling benevolently and Sharon blows out a frustrated breath. Brenda blinks, her brown eyes open and warm.

"Oh, alright." Sharon snaps, snatching her phone. "I will order him protection." She jabs at her phone. "I hope it's enough to protect you." She mutters under her breath and Brenda forces a smile. She stands and impulsively grabs the Captain's wrist.

"Thank you." She whispers. "Sharon, thank you." She feels the slip of soft skin under her thumb. Sharon smiles her soft little half smile, the smile that reminds Brenda of the first time she spread the Captain's legs to kiss her everywhere. She can't help but smile back. She turns, before she says or does something she regrets, but Sharon's grip on her wrist is firm.

"Oh, no." She says. "I'm going with you when you tell Pope about this." Her eyes never leave Brenda's as she speaks softly into the phone. "Yes, this is Captain Sharon Raydor. I need to order surveillance on-" Brenda watches her speak, watches her full lips move, feels her fingers closing around her wrist. Her chest is tight and she blows out a breath when Sharon hands up the phone. "I'm definitely going with you when you explain all this to Chief Pope."

"Why?" Brenda asks, defensive even though she doesn't know why. Sharon's eyes narrow.

"Free entertainment." She quips and Brenda has to bite back a smile.

True to her prediction, Will's reaction is pretty entertaining. Or it would be, if the situation wasn't so serious. "I don't believe this!" Really? Brenda thinks. "How could you set up an SIS protection detail for Goldman without my permission?" The vein on the side of his head is throbbing.

"I didn't order SIS protection for anyone." Brenda says honestly, injecting as much Southern warmth into her tone as she can. Will's right eye twitches.

"It's surveillance only and I requested it." Sharon interjects calmly.

"That's not the point." Will snaps, turning his attention back to Brenda. "I'm Chief of Police, for now-"

"Excuse me-" Sharon tries.

"And I have approval over this!" Will finishes.

"Excuse me. I have a very good explanation for what's going on here." Sharon speaks slowly and methodically and comes to stand beside Brenda. Brenda recognizes the look in her eyes, the subtle twitching of her mouth. A thrill skitters down her spine, warms her chest. The woman is about to effiserate Will Pope, she can just tell. And she's enjoying herself. Brenda fights back a little smirk. It'll teach him to underestimate Sharon Raydor.

"And that would be…?"

"Chief Johnson is about to meet with the man she believes runs the 110 Crips, Marvin Evans." Pope nods in comprehension and bites his lips. Brenda imagines it's to stop himself from screaming, but she ignores it.

"If," Brenda picks up where Sharon left off, "in my interview with Mr. Evans I inadvertently say something that puts Mr. Goldman in danger…" Will squints and tilts his head.

"An SIS detail will already be there to protect him." Sharon finishes. "There will be no moment between the creation of a threat and the surveillance."

"You know in advance that talking to this guy threatens Goldman's life and you're going to go ahead and do it? Why would you do that?" Will demands. Sharon raises an eyebrow, studying Pope with distaste. She doesn't like yelling much, especially not in the workplace. It's horribly uncivilized. Brenda's eyes narrow.

"You said solve the murder and then be aware of all the moving pieces. That's what I'm doing. If you have another plan, I'm open to suggestions." Brenda can feel Sharon's eyes on her, her approving gaze, the purse of her lips that means she's trying not to smile. Brenda darts her eyes away from Pope's apoplectic face to meet the woman's even gaze, feeling the shock of their eye contact all the way through her body and down to her toes. The power the two of them have zips through her, lighting her up. She hasn't felt this in sync with another person since the last time she and Sharon moved together in bed.

The knock at her door jars her out of her highly inappropriate thoughts and she snaps at them to come in. She sees a little smirk playing at the corner of Sharon's lips in the moment before she turns away from Brenda. Brenda knows that smirk. Either Sharon is getting off on pissing off Will Pope, which she supposes is possible, or the woman knows what she had been thinking.

"Good morning everyone." Tao greets, buttoning up his jacket.

"Good morning, Lieutenant." Brenda greets with exaggerated patience. "What is it?"

"Uh, a Marvin Evans is downstairs with his attorney. Chinese guy." Brenda glares at him. "Said you asked him to come in to talk to you. Flynn's bringing him up, told him Interview Room Two."

"Great. Thank you." Brenda nods in acknowledgment. "I'm comin' with you." She meets Sharon's eyes briefly before she walks out. The woman gives her a barely perceptible nod.

Brenda watches her entire team, plus Pope and Sharon file into the media room. Briefly, absurdly, she thinks it's the largest audience she's ever had for an interrogation.

"Mr. Evans!" She greets politely. "So nice to put a face to the voice. I'm Deputy Chief Johnson. And you must be Mr. Evans attorney."

"Tommy Wong." The young man takes her hand softly.

"Tommy Wong." She repeats. "So nice to meet you both, thank you so much for comin'."

"Don't thank us." Tommy Wong replies. "We have no intention of cooperating with you on anything." Brenda pretends to be surprised.

"Really? Then why did you agree to come in? You could have refused to cooperate over a cell phone, you have enough of 'em." Brenda shakes her head. "No, no, no. We have far too many common interests for you to say you can't cooperate with me."

"What common interests?" Tommy Wong prompts. Briefly, Brenda wonders how much this lawyer knows, how much he understands. But Marvin Evans' eyes are studying her shrewdly and she decides it doesn't matter.

"The murder of Charlie Niles and his grandson." She never averts her eyes from Evans' gaze.

"That murder is solved, ma'am. You know who did this as well as me."

"Well, the case is closed. Just like the caskets you bought for the Niles' funerals are closed and the deal you made for the convenience store Mr. Niles used to own is closed. But as we are both well aware, closed does not mean over."

"Well, it's not over for you, maybe. But it's over for Tyrell. He murdered Mr. Niles and his grandson and now he's dead."

"Well that leaves us with the problem of who murdered Tyrell Baylor."

"Yeah, but who cares about that? You? Come on." Brenda fights the urge to wince, to clench her hands into fists until her nails break her skin. "You don't care about that."

"As it turns out, Mr. Evans, I have to care about that. In very much the same way you have to care about it. We also both have to care about the murder of a young man by the name of James Turner, J Rock to his friends." Tommy Wong chooses this moment to interject.

"We have no idea who this J Rock is." Brenda doesn't even look at him.

"Maybe you don't, but Mr. Evans does." Brenda plays the tape of him talking to Reggie Moses, watches his eyes flicker.

Sharon squints at the video monitor in the electronics room. She feels Pope and Taylor shuffle uncomfortably beside her as Brenda sets it up, explains that J Rock told Goldman the names of Tyrell's killers. She watches the smug expression slide off Evans' face.

"Or does that little list J Rock gave Goldman not mean anything to you?" Brenda asks in that saccharine tone.

"Oh my God." Pope whispers, horrified, from beside her.

"Or is it something on which the two of us might cooperate?" Brenda looks unblinking at Marvin Evans, her eyes all shadowed intrigue. Sharon's heart stops for a desperate moment. She thinks briefly Brenda has gone too far, pushed too hard, that Marvin Evans won't fall for it, but a smile slowly twists on his lips.

"I meet a lot of people in my line of work." He says finally. "I'll search my contacts, look in my emails. Always want to help if I can." He nods at Brenda, smiles and Sharon has the sudden urge to shower, to wash the memory of his slimy expression off her skin. But Brenda just nods back, as if they have come to some kind of understanding and then Marvin Evans is gone. Lieutenant Flynn clears his throat from beside her.

"Well that didn't go very well, did it?"

"That all depends on what you think just happened." Sharon replies quietly. She watches Pope walk out, shoulders hunched, feeling irrationally proud of Brenda.

The feeling of pride that had welled in Sharon's chest at seeing Brenda outsmart Pope, Goldman, Evans and his attorney hadn't abated. It was without question the most skillful bit of strategic maneuvering Sharon had ever seen and Brenda now held the precious list of killers between her manicured fingernails. Sharon watches from the sidelines of the murder room as the blonde surveys her team. "Okay." She takes a deep breath. "Lieutenant Provenza, will you please organize the take down of these boys?" Brenda grabs her bag. Sharon's eyes widen. Where in the world could the Chief possibly be going? Surely she's not going…surely she wouldn't. Sharon quickly follows her.

"Chief!" Sharon rounds the corner towards the elevators and takes a deep breath. "Are you going where I think you're going?"

"I need to finish my conversation with Mr. Evans." The woman sounds so small, so resigned, so tired. Sharon fights the urge to drag her back to the murder room by her hair.

"Without back up?" She questions evenly. "You just sent out your entire squad."

"They can't know." Brenda's sad eyes meet hers for a heart wrenching moment before she steps into the elevator. Everything in Sharon rebels, objects. It's too much, it's too dangerous, Brenda can't go unprotected. She thrusts her hand between the closing elevator doors.

"You're not going to try to arrest Marvin Evans by yourself, are you?" Sharon's eyes plead with Brenda, beg her to re-consider, to see how foolish she is being, to understand the stupidity of what she is about to do. Brenda shakes her head.

"I'm not going to arrest him at all, Captain." Sharon studies Brenda; clearly the woman is trying to tell her something. Brenda's gaze darts towards her hand, preventing the elevator door from closing. "Excuse me."

For one long moment, Sharon thinks she will refuse. She thinks she will grab the Deputy Chief around the waist, pull the woman to her and hold her close and safe and refuse to allow her to do something so foolish, so reckless. Or she thinks she will insist on going with her, on backing her up, on being there to keep her safe. But Sharon knows that if this were any other higher ranking officer, not the woman with whom she'd spent several endless nights making love, she wouldn't even be questioning them. Brenda waits. Sharon slowly pulls her hand out away, fighting the urge to reach out to Brenda, to beg her. She tucks her hand in her pocket so the Chief doesn't see it shaking. Brenda doesn't look at her as the doors close, but Sharon studies every inch of her face for as long as she can.

Sharon is listening to the tapes from the FBI surveillance of Marvin Evans' condo. Hearing Brenda's voice come through the speakers jolts her, makes her sit up straighter. They are talking about home and then Brenda gasps, startled.

"It's nothing personal." Evans says and Sharon's grip tightens convulsively on her pen. Even though she is listening after the fact, even though she already received the call saying Brenda is safe and on her way back with Evans in FBI custody, she feels fear clench at her heart. "Don't get excited. I'm not going to hurt you. But I don't want you to hurt me, either. And even though you gave me that nice warning today, you could still be wearing a wire." Sharon understands then what she can't see; Evans is frisking her, touching her. He's putting his filthy hands on Brenda's body and Sharon's stomach clenches in disgust. Her trigger finger twitches. If he hurt her…if he hurt her in any way…

Brenda's voice comes even and strong, permeating the haze of her rage and fear and Sharon releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"You knew Tyrell had to die as much as I did." Evan asserts and Sharon winces. That sounds bad and it would sound worse in front of a jury. She hears Brenda again.

"I wonder if Charlie would be proud of how you paid him back. Killin' all those people. Is that what he would have wanted?" Sharon shakes her head.

"No." She whispers into her empty office. "Brenda, no." She hears a gun cock and she covers her mouth. _It's over_, Sharon tells herself. _She's safe. It's over._

Brenda thinks she has never been happier to be back in the murder room with her team than she is at this moment. She had immediately looked around for Sharon, wanting to see the older woman herself, but Sharon is nowhere to be found. She forces herself to focus on what Sanchez is saying about this case.

"Ricky Rock shot his own brother in the back?" Brenda asks Sanchez incredulously. She twists her wedding ring around her finger, grateful her hands have finally stopped shaking.

"Well," Commander Taylor comes sauntering into the murder room. "Nobody can say we didn't follow up on Tyrell Baylor. All the way to the bitter end." Gavin smiles and interjects.

"Not so bitter, though we are at the end of things finally." Gavin holds up his folder, a wordless gesture to Brenda and she nods before following him into the conference room. There's Sharon, resting against the wall, surveying the scene with an unidentifiable look in her eyes. Brenda wants to say something to her, something reassuring, but not with Peter Goldman standing right there.

"Chief Johnson." Pope greets her. "This agreement is really beneficial to all parties involved. I don't…I don't think you even really need to read it."

"Oh." Sharon's whiskey soaked drawl drips with sarcasm from behind her. "I think she does."

"Well," Gavin says quickly. "She can if she wants to, but she's been dropped from the suit." Gavin allows himself a moment of self-satisfied smugness, his face just glowing with it and Sharon glares at her old friend.

"I have?" Brenda asks incredulously.

"Yes you have." Gavin preens and Sharon rolls her eyes. "And the good people of Los Angeles will be paying Mr. Goldman a million dollar assessment."

"Which," Goldman interrupts, "won't even cover my expenses." Everyone ignores him.

"What about clearing my name in court?" Brenda asks, sliding her glasses on. Sharon fights the urge to wince.

"Listen." Pope implores her. "I know this isn't everything you were hoping for, but you're off the hook for any damages."

"Well, I don't care what the city or the department decides, I don't agree with this." Brenda insists.

"Well, it doesn't matter if you agree or not, dear." Gavin informs her. "You're no longer being sued, so we can settle without you. And in turn we're agreeing not to bring charges of misconduct against Peter here." Peter shakes his head. "Or working to have his law license revoked or causing him any of the other ten thousand perfectly legal problems I'd just love to throw his way."

Sharon tilts her head, watching Brenda read through the agreement. She yearns to reach out to the younger woman, but keeps her hands firmly entrenched in her pockets.

"The Johnson Rule?" Brenda asks nobody, eyes snapping up from the settlement agreement. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh, didn't they tell you?" Goldman asks facetiously. "To satisfy my concerns and those of my clients and to make sure they don't re-file using other legal representation, your attorney and the Chief of Police-" Pope waves his hands, interrupting Goldman's smug little speech.

"Alright, shut up." He snaps. "The Johnson Rule," Pope explains, "is essentially, it's a silly, obvious special order that Goldman wants that says the LAPD cannot knowingly release a suspect or witness into a hostile or dangerous environment. It's…it's no big deal." Brenda stands, shoving the agreement out of the way. She looks towards Gavin.

"How could you let this happen?" She demands. "Putting my name on a special order like this makes it sound like I did somethin' wrong. I just solved the murder I was accused of plannin', how could you let this happen?" Sharon can hear the tears in Brenda's voice and the raw emotion, the betrayal and the pain, makes her hurt.

"Sorry." Gavin replies sarcastically. "I just saved you from a civil rights action that could have cost you your career and everything you own. And this is the thanks I get?"

"No, no, here's the thanks you get." Brenda snaps. "You're fired." Sharon chances a look over at Peter Goldman, who is smiling smugly, enjoying watching the Deputy Chief fall. Sharon's palms itch; she has never wanted to hit someone, hurt them, more in her life than she does right now. She wants to punch Peter Goldman square in the face and feel his nose break under her hand.

"If it's no big deal," Brenda goes on, "why not call it the Pope Rule? Or the Raydor Rule? It's disgraceful!" She slams the agreement down on the table and Sharon winces. "You're sellin' me out!" Brenda walks out and Sharon immediately spins on her heel to follow her.

"Chief." She softly calls after the younger woman.

"Don't. Don't talk to me right now." Brenda wipes at her eyes. She doesn't want Sharon to see her like this, to see her hurting, to see her broken. "I know you refused on the settlement, I know it's not your fault. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"Don't talk then, listen." Sharon urges quickly and Brenda turns to face the Captain. "I know this didn't end the way we wanted, but right now, considering the list of suspects he gave us, there is a chance that Peter Goldman will be in danger the moment he leaves this building. So what do you want me to do about that?" Sharon eyes Brenda, watches her shake her head, wipe the tears running down her face.

"So." Brenda sniffles. "Ask Goldman to reveal his leak inside of Major Crimes, nicely. And if he refuses, well, order him protection whether he likes it or not." Sharon smiles softly; moments like these she is sure the Chief is the most honorable person she has ever known.

"That is the right and honorable thing to do-"

"It's the Johnson Rule, Captain." Brenda snaps and Sharon's heart aches, just a little. "Thank you." Brenda whispers softly and Sharon nods before the woman turns on her heel and struts away, head held unflinchingly high. Sharon sees her devastated face through the blinds in her office for several seconds before Brenda pulls them shut.

Sharon lets her head drop into her hands, the curtain of her hair covering her face. Her elbows rest on her desk and she sighs heavily. She has been ready to go home for nearly forty minutes, briefcase all packed up, lights shut off, computer powered down, drawers locked and yet she hasn't moved from the stillness of her office. She cracks her neck, wincing at the pain in her stiff muscles. All she can see is Brenda's anguished face, the pain in her normally bright eyes. Maybe releasing Tyrell Baylor out onto the street without protection wasn't her finest moment, but the Chief didn't break any laws and she deserves more than being thrown under the bus to protect the city from a lawsuit. Her bold, brash Chief. Betrayal is something Sharon is familiar with. With a heavy sigh, she slings her briefcase over her shoulder and pushes her chair in. If she stays here much longer, she won't make it home and the last thing she needs is to fall asleep at her desk. She's too old for that. Sharon slowly makes her way to the elevator bank. She checks her watch and sighs when she's sees it's nearly ten o'clock. The doors open and she bites her lip. Her finger hovers over the ground floor button, but she can't press it. She blows out a breath and jabs at the button for the fifteenth floor. Odds are Brenda has gone home, to her husband, but Sharon has to check. She crosses her arms over her chest as the elevator ascends, wondering why she is doing this. She and Brenda have found their footing with one another, are able to work professionally. But Evans haunting voice floats through her mind, the image of his hands on Brenda, the metallic click of the gun. Sharon shivers and wraps her arms around herself. After today, she needs to see Brenda, really see her, really make sure she's okay, just for a minute and she won't begrudge herself that.

Major Crimes is dark and Sharon takes tentative steps into the murder room, eyes sweeping over the empty bullpen. She casts her gaze to the Chief's office, sees the blinds are still drawn but light is filtering through the slats. She clicks her way across to the office and knocks quietly.

Brenda is staring absently at the business card she found in at the bottom of her purse. The young woman in the coffee shop is called Renee and she is a personal trainer. Brenda crumples the card in her fist. Now that it's over, the lawsuit, Tyrell Baylor, Goldman, now that it's finished she can finally be just a little bit honest with herself. It isn't the touch of a woman she really wants it's the touch of one woman in particular. The woman who fought for her, against her old friend Gavin and the Chief of Police himself, right up until the very bitter end. A soft knock drags her eyes to her door and she tosses the card in her wastebasket. It's probably Fritz, wondering where the hell she has been.

"Come in." She calls, happy that her voice has returned to normal. Brenda watches, stunned, as the very woman she had been thinking about quietly slips into her office and shuts the door behind her. Sharon studies her for several long moments.

"Are you okay?" She asks softly, keen eyes noting the tear tracks on Brenda's face and the exhausted slope of her shoulders. Brenda forces a smile.

"I will be." Sharon takes tentative, stuttering steps towards Brenda's desk, almost as if half of her body wants to turn away and run. Brenda looks at Sharon, really looks at her. Her suit is perfectly pressed and her hair still perfectly in place, but the bags under her eyes are deep and Brenda can see the minute trembling of her right hand. Brenda fights the urge to reach out and take the hand in her own, to trace the fine bones. "Are you okay?" She asks kindly. Sharon blows out a breath and drags her hand through her hair.

"I will be, too." She rounds Brenda's desk and pauses. Brenda has the sudden urge to stand, to meet Sharon on even footing, but she forces herself to remain sitting. "That tape today." Sharon says finally. "That tape of you at Evans' condo, I-" She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't…Chief, I…" Brenda's face contorts with pain.

"I didn't mean for you to have to listen to that." It was bad enough her husband had to hear it, waiting all the way in the hall. Brenda never wanted her former lover to be subjected to it as well. Sharon just shakes her head. Brenda stands then, fists clenched at her sides. She longs to reach out to Sharon, to enfold the clearly exhausted woman in her arms. She swallows hard. It's on the tip of her tongue to tell Sharon that the other woman was her first thought when Evans cocked the hammer on her gun, her wish that she had kissed the older woman good bye at the elevators. But Brenda knows that won't help them now.

"Well." Sharon says finally. "I just wanted to make sure you're really okay." Brenda nods and smiles; her sweet Sharon. Sharon favors her with a little half smile in return. "Are you ready to go? I'll walk you out." Brenda's smile deepens and she grabs her jacket.

"Okay." Brenda shuts off her desk lamp and follows Sharon to the door. Her eyes stray to the other woman's long legs, the curve of her ass under her skirt. She can't believe Sharon is here, real and solid and here in front of her. And the lawsuit is over, her reputation is trashed but she still has her house, her savings, her badge. And she could've died today, if Evans decided to pull that trigger. And her skin still feels soiled where he ran his hands along it and there's still a leak in her division. She feels the shivers threaten just behind her back. And Sharon is here; warm and concerned and soft and beautiful. Somehow, the two of them are still standing and they're still standing together, at least in this moment. This moment Brenda has been craving for weeks. Her body still pulses with the feel of Sharon wrapped around her. "Sharon." She whispers the woman's name reverently, like a prayer and reaches out to brush a hand against her waist, the fabric of her jacket warm from her skin. Sharon pauses with her hand on the doorknob and slowly turns to face Brenda, something like pain and hope in her bottomless green eyes.

"Brenda Leigh." Sharon chokes out quietly, finally facing her completely now, and bringing shaking hands up to cup her upper arms. "I am so glad you are alright." Her voice is deeper than Brenda has ever heard it, an inch from breaking, halting, stuttering, and overwhelmed. Brenda's heart aches with the pain and fear she caused Sharon.

The two women just look at each other for long moments, acknowledging the shift in professionalism before Sharon embraces Brenda gently, pulling the young woman's lithe body to her and enfolding her in her arms. Brenda goes willingly, burying her face in Sharon's shoulder and soaking up her familiar warmth, her strength, the softness of her curves. She breathes deeply and nearly laughs with relief at smelling Sharon's scent; her fruity shampoo and her vanilla perfume. Sharon holds Brenda close, arms wrapped tightly around her, feeling the reassuring beat of her heart and the rhythmic expansion of her lungs. Sharon longs to drag out their embrace, to hold the Chief in her arms for as long as Brenda will stay, to sway together in the middle of her office all night, but Sharon is keenly aware of the increasing time of their hug and the fading line of professionalism. Regretfully, and with a final nudge of her nose to Brenda's hair, she forces her arms to relax, to let go of the strong body in her arms.

Brenda trembles when she feels Sharon loosen her arms, and splays her hands over the other woman's back. Brenda doesn't care; she finally has Sharon back in her arms and after today, she isn't strong enough to let her go.

"Brenda." Sharon husks softly, breath brushing her ear. Brenda shivers. "Brenda..." Sharon feels her body begging with her, pleading with her, warming just from the feel of Brenda pressed against her. Her amazing Chief, the woman who just single handedly brought down the power structure of one of the most violent street gangs in Los Angeles. The woman who likes to be kissed softly after she comes. Somehow, they're here, together, in each other's arms, holding each other up and Sharon can't even think of how close she came to losing this woman today. Brooke words from weeks ago flit through her mind. _Maybe you had her enough._ And she has Brenda now, looking up at her through hooded eyes and close enough to touch.

Brenda opens her mouth to speak, to try to explain, but then Sharon's tenuous control snaps and those lush lips are on hers, firmly molding to her mouth and Brenda squeaks in surprise and arousal before fisting her hands in Sharon's dark hair. Sharon tugs Brenda closer, grasping her hips convulsively and pressing every inch of their bodies as closely together as she can. She drinks deeply from Brenda's mouth, savoring the feeling of finally, finally, feeling her Chief's pouty lips entwined with hers.

Brenda whimpers as Sharon's breasts press into hers and their stomachs mesh. She moans lowly, the sound vibrating against Sharon's mouth. The woman feels so good, so warm and soft and so female, her lush curves teasing Brenda with sensual promise.

Brenda feels her office door hit her back as she licks into Sharon's mouth, teasing her tongue. Sharon cups her face, stroking her cheeks, as she delves deeply into her mouth, tasting every hint of Brenda she can. Sharon's passion ignites her, and she swallows every one of Sharon's desperate, delectable whimpers, kissing her back fiercely. Brenda devours Sharon, greedily takes every slick thrust of the woman's tongue and soft brush of her lips, dizzily trying to make up for all the time they have lost. She presses her body closer, moaning desperately and fumbling with the buttons of Sharon's top. She isn't thinking, she isn't rational; all Brenda knows is now that Sharon's mouth is on hers again finally, she can't hold herself back. The proverbial damn has broken and the desire, the need, the craving, the heady arousal she has been holding back for months is washing over her.

Sharon groans into Brenda's hot mouth as she feels the woman's rising desperation. She swiftly unbuttons her sweater, tugging at her skirt, pressing her thigh between the legs Brenda gladly splays. Sharon drags her mouth away from Brenda's kiss bruised lips to bite and nip a trail across her jawbone and down her neck. She groans, licking Brenda's skin lewdly as she feels the other woman's heat searing her thigh.

"Tell me to stop." Sharon orders, kissing back up Brenda's neck and licking her ear. Brenda shivers and grinds desperately on the muscled thigh teasing her with too-light pressure. "Tell me to stop." Sharon repeats. "Tell me now, Brenda or I won't be able to."

"Fuck." Brenda gasps as Sharon starts a libidinous rhythm with her thigh. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop." She lets her head fall back, opening more of her throat for Sharon to nuzzle and kiss. Sharon attacks the bare flesh greedily, sucking little bruises and tugging Brenda urgently away from her door. Brenda refuses to let go of her Captain's mouth, latching onto her full lower lip and sucking it between her teeth as Sharon urges her backwards. Brenda grunts with pain when the edge of her desk makes contact with the small of her back and Sharon rubs the spot softly. "Fine." Brenda drags her mouth away long enough to whisper. "It's fine." Brenda doesn't even register the pain with the mind-numbing way Sharon is kissing her.

Sharon's entire body is a live wire, pulsing and thrumming and hot with need. All she can think about is Brenda and getting her naked as soon as possible. Sharon tugs at the zipper of her dress, moaning as her hands trail down the warm skin of Brenda's back. She pulls the dress forward and Brenda helpfully lifts her arms, the two of them struggling for infuriating seconds before successfully tugging it off. Brenda tosses it mindlessly behind her and reaches up to tug the clip from her hair, shaking her head and letting her curls tumble freely. Sharon's eyes greedily run the length of Brenda's body, clad only in a black bra and black thong. Brenda lets her look her fill, reveling in the other woman's evident desire for her.

When Sharon's eyes finally come up to meet Brenda's, the feral lust in her eyes sends pulsing wetness directly between Brenda's thighs. Sharon never thought she would see this again; Brenda's incredible breasts, her toned stomach, her lean legs and her smooth skin. She reaches around to unclasp the blonde's bra, letting it fall, and biting her lip at the sight of the full, firm mounds topped with dark cherry nipples that are rapidly hardening under her hot gaze. With a deep groan of surrender, Sharon ducks her head to suckle an erect nipple into her mouth, twirling her tongue around the bud and biting it gently. Brenda groans lewdly and tosses her head back, arching her breasts into Sharon's hungry mouth. Brenda fists her hands in Sharon's hair, holding her mouth in place because she thinks if Sharon leaves her like this, after all this waiting and after getting her so wet and so hot and so ready, she will actually die. Sharon kisses down her belly, Brenda's skin burning where her lips draw a hot trail across her sensitive flesh. Sharon makes her way back up to capture Brenda's lips again, to taste that sweet addictive mouth.

Brenda has never been more desperate to touch another human being in her life and she tugs at Sharon's jacket, shoving it off the older woman's shoulders and ripping her blouse out of her skirt. Trembling fingers pull too hard and the pearl buttons go flying, clacking loudly in the otherwise silent office.

"Shit." Brenda curses. "Sorry." She doesn't stop undressing Sharon, though, fumbling with the zipper of her skirt and forcing it over her hips.

"Doesn't matter." Sharon manages between panting breaths, flicking open the clasp of her own bra, desperate to feel all of Brenda against her again. Brenda looks up at her in surprise, and gasps at the pure want in the Captain's eyes. Sharon's eyes lock on hers, burning into her, opening her chest and searing her soul. Instantly she knows the woman's desire is mirrored in her own expression. A moment filled with harsh breaths passes. Two. Three. Then Sharon is on her again, holding Brenda's face in a ferocious kiss and urging her onto her desk with firm hands.

Sharon takes the quickest of moments to appreciate the sexy picture her Chief makes splayed on her desk, chest flushed, breasts trembling, hair spread out around her paperwork in a halo of blonde curls, legs dangling over the edge._ Finally_. Is all her desire soaked mind can think. _Finally_. It suddenly feels like it's been years since she's touched Brenda, instead of the mere months they've resisted. It feels like she hasn't been touched since their last time, even though she's had plenty of sex with Brooke.

"Fuck." She gasps. "Brenda Leigh. So fucking sexy." Sharon can't make herself wait another minute, so she tugs Brenda's thong down her legs and tosses it behind her, feline eyes tracing up the lines and curves of her Chief's body. Brenda doesn't let her eyes break from Sharon's smoldering gaze, feeling the arousal coil in her belly and between her thighs under her lover's intense stare. "Fuck." Sharon whispers again. "Can't wait." And then her hands are underneath Brenda, cupping her ass and dragging her forward far enough to bury her nose in fragrant curls.

Brenda grasps at Sharon's auburn head, tugging her further closer and spreading her legs as wide as she can. Sharon rubs her hands up and down Brenda's toned thighs before licking her firmly, dragging her tongue through every inch of her folds, gathering her sweet essence and swallowing, moaning as the heady flavor explodes on her tongue. Brenda cries out, bucking against Sharon's mouth, as stars explode in front of her eyes. Sharon drinks in every whimper, every moan and every cry that falls from Brenda's lips as she points her tongue and licks circles around her opening before dipping inside to mine the sweet liquor of the Chief's pleasure. Brenda is so good, so amazing, and Sharon wants to re-enact every fantasy she has been harboring about the woman since their last time together and do them all at once. She licks further into Brenda's convulsing body, nuzzling her clit just the way she knows Brenda likes and tracing familiar soft walls with her tongue. Sharon buries herself in Brenda, in the slick feel of her, her taste and her feminine scent.

Brenda holds Sharon to her desperately, moving in time with the thrusts of Sharon's remarkable tongue, incredibly on edge just from the much missed feel of the other woman's mouth. Her ecstasy is like lightning flashing in her sex, electrifying her clit and her entrance and making her crave Sharon's touch everywhere. Sharon's lips wrap around her swollen bud and suck and Brenda screams. She's wanton, she's uncontrolled, she's shaking under the weight of her pleasure, she's practically riding Sharon's face and she feels freer than she has in months. Brenda cants her hips and grinds her sex onto Sharon's searching tongue. As she kneads her own breasts, tweaking her nipples, Brenda revels in a moment of awareness in which she feels more like herself than she ever has, where she feels perfectly right and perfectly beautiful and better than she thought she ever would again.

"Sharon." She gasps as her Captain draws figure eights around her clit. "Sharon." Sharon just licks up Brenda's copious wetness before returning to her clit, sucking and licking. "Inside me." Brenda hears herself beg. "Please, inside me." Chokingly, she articulates what her body has been aching, craving, demanding.

Sharon surges up Brenda's body, grinding her stomach into Brenda's sticky wet sex and kisses her fiercely. Her eyes lock on Brenda's; she wants to watch Brenda take her inside, watch Brenda feel them joined again. Her hand trails up the inside of one sensitive thigh before two fingers press firmly inside perfect, tight, clinging heat. Brenda keens as her body opens to accept Sharon, lighting up just from the drag of long fingers against her sensitive inner walls.

"Fuck." Sharon gasps again as Brenda's warm velvet surrounds her, clenches around her.

"Just you." Brenda manages, staring directly into Sharon's eyes. She tightens her muscles around Sharon's now-still fingers, sucking the digits further into her welcoming body. "No one else…" She trails off and shivers. "No one else has…just you."

"Brenda…" Sharon melts a little; she doesn't know what to say to the blonde's confession. She scissors her fingers, re-learning the contours of Brenda's warm sheath. Brenda throws her head back and arches up, abandoning herself to the waves of pleasure rolling over every sensitized inch of her sweat-slicked flesh.

"Yes." Brenda gasps, rocking her hips. "Sharon, yes." Sharon's fingers move of their own accord, scissoring and twisting and rubbing every one of Brenda's secret spots. Her body remembers just how to touch this woman, how to shatter her with pleasure. Brenda thrashes her head from side to side, brow furrowed against the onslaught of sensation in her deprived body. "You, too." She gasps breathlessly. "You…want…need to touch you. Come here." She beckons with already crooked fingers and in a fit of daring, Sharon climbs onto Brenda's desk, kneeling over her prone lover and bringing her body close enough for Brenda to cup and squeeze between her legs.

Sharon shudders as her entire body seizes, every nerve ending screaming out with pleasure at finally, finally, feeling Brenda's hands back on her where they belong. Brenda drags her fingers through the ocean of Sharon's wetness and Sharon throws her head back, grinding shamelessly into the other woman's palm and smearing her arousal all over Brenda's skin. Brenda moans and spreads Sharon's wetness over the puffy lips of the other woman's sex before sinking two fingers swiftly inside and matching the rhythm Sharon has set within her. Brenda's thumb settles unerringly over Sharon's clit and rubs in tiny circles like she knows Sharon likes. Brenda kisses her bruisingly, nipping at her lips and shoving her tongue roughly past her teeth. Sharon feels so good, better than Brenda even remembered in her fantasies and her body is singing with the ecstasy of this. She thrusts deeper inside of Sharon's liquid heat and rubs firmer around her clit; she hopes the older woman is close because she is teetering on the edge and she knows she won't last. Brenda contracts violently around a particularly deep thrust of Sharon's and Sharon's moan vibrates against her lips.

"Come for me, Brenda." Sharon whispers. Brenda shifts her hips, desperate to diffuse her pleasure. "I'm oh!" Sharon gasps. "I'm…right there…with you. I…will." Sharon's hips thrust against Brenda's hand, desperately seeking release from the pleasure building in her sex.

Brenda forces her eyes open, wanting to see how Sharon looks perched atop her hips. She stares fascinated at the muscles in Sharon's forearm that allude to the delicious silken thrusts. "Yes." Brenda gasps. "Yes, baby." Sharon pinches her clit and she flies over the edge, screaming the other woman's name and coming convulsively around her fingers.

Sharon thrusts down on Brenda fingers, forcing them to curve along her body and then Brenda's nail scratches that spot deep inside her and she lets go, tumbling over the edge and joining Brenda in bliss. Sharon desperately rides out her climax to thunderous roaring in her ears, feeling Brenda shaking and shivering beneath her, sex contracting rhythmically against her fingers.

Sharon comes back to awareness slowly, first to the feel of Brenda's swollen, spongy walls still clutching at her fingers and then to the vicious pain in her knees where they are firmly implanted against the unforgiving wood of Brenda's desk. Sharon pulls her fingers from their warm cocoon and shifts achingly off the desk, slumping exhausted to sit on the floor. Brenda whimpers in discontent and slides bonelessly off her desk, shaking knees folding underneath her to collapse next to Sharon. She rests her head against the side of her desk and drags her fingers through her hair. Tiny shivers wrack her body and she laughs in delighted disbelief.

"That was so amazin'." Brenda husks, voice roughened from calling out Sharon's name. Sharon attempts to smooth down her own mussed hair, but settles for brushy sweaty tendrils off her face.

"It was." Sharon agrees, still breathless and dazed from the freight train of pleasure that just ran over her. Sharon shifts her aching body, muscles protesting vehemently, to sit next to Brenda and rest her head on the younger woman's shoulder. Brenda presses an absent minded kiss to Sharon's hair and entwines their fingers. Sharon squeezes her hand and they sit in silence, both lost in aftershocks of bliss and drifting thoughts. Sharon comes fully back to reality first, turning to face Brenda and studying her profile, face relaxed and happy in the afterglow of her orgasm. Sharon cups her cheek and turns the woman's face to hers, capturing her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. She feels Brenda's smile against her mouth and knows her own lips are curving upwards in response.

Sharon knows she should be ashamed; she is a middle aged woman naked in her boss's office, but she feels light and happy and satisfied. Her body is floating in the rightness of feeling Brenda's naked form so close again and she can't make herself regret this. Brenda's eyes flutter open and settle on Sharon. For one brief moment, Sharon feels a frisson of fear shoot down her spine in anticipation of Brenda's reaction, but the Chief just smiles widely and strokes Sharon's face.

"I've missed you so much." Brenda admits, drinking in the vision of Sharon's nude body.

"I've missed you as well." Sharon tugs Brenda's lips back for another kiss and hums against her mouth. Now that she has the beautiful blonde Chief back, she doesn't want to give this up, she doesn't want this to end. She and Brenda have so much talking to do, so much to say and more urgently, Sharon isn't nearly done making up for the time they've lost. She hasn't gotten enough of Brenda's body, not nearly enough, and she wants to touch, kiss, taste and fuck the blonde for as long as much time as they can steal. Her body is humming with the promise of taking Brenda again. "Come home with me." Sharon whispers against Brenda's soft mouth, a gentle plea. Brenda pulls away to look into her Captain's darkened eyes. Desire shoots down her spine; she needs this and she will never refuse this woman anything ever again.

"Yes."

**A/N 2: Well! I hope there is still interest left in this story because I am really excited about the next installment. I've had enough of angst for awhile, so next part will be sex, sex, and more sex. Plus, Brenda will meet Brooke. So I hope you're willing to stay with me! **


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